


Care

by IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow



Category: The Fall (TV)
Genre: AU Past, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 21:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1999440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow/pseuds/IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What were you thinking” he shouts, demanding an answer as he barrels down the hall and toward her. What was she thinking? Why does he care? That wasn’t important any longer. Annie Brawley was awake and she would find him. She will hunt him. She will catch him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Care

“What were you thinking” he shouts, demanding an answer as he barrels down the hall and toward her. _What was she thinking?_   _Why does he care?_ That isn't important, she reasons. Annie Brawley was awake and she _would_ find him. She will hunt him. She will catch him.

 She stares at Burns, expecting his footfalls to stop. She knew him, quite intimately, although time had passed. He would yell, shout, flail his arms and then walk off in a flustered and puffing, hoping that he’d ruffled her feathers. She’s surprised when he doesn’t stop, his footsteps invading her personal space.

“You put this investigation in danger,” he sneers, grabbing her bicep roughly. She tries to back up in her ‘fuck me’ heels, worn with purpose, but his hand is tight, encircling her arm. She won’t wince, won’t give him what he wants. Her eyes widen for a moment, but then lower into an intense glare.

“I _saved_ this investigation,” the retort shoots from her lips, the words bitter and deliberate. She finds that he can only look her in the eyes when he’s angry with her. _When had things changed so much?_ “Unhand me,” she commands and his hand instantly releases. He finally realizes what she meant when she spoke of the strangulation. His hand already ached from the tight grasp, merely seconds long. Although he knew he didn’t have the power to strangle someone effectively, he surely wanted to try.

No, that was wrong. He didn’t want to strangle her. He just wanted to shake her shoulders, see some emotion for once. He wanted to see her hair flip over her shoulders as he shook her and shouted. But he couldn’t. Even though she deserved it, something he knew she would glare at him for saying. She gave her number out to a serial killer, as if she sanctioned her own death. As if her existence didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be the martyr; the bleeding heart for these women. He wouldn’t let her. He had to make her see the tethered strings that tied her to the Earth. It was more than work, than catching this murderer. His hands drop to his sides and she’s tugging at her shirt, fixing herself. He wants to reason with her, but he knows he can’t. He’s not the one. Not anymore. He tries, regardless.

“You put _yourself_ in danger, Stella.”

“And that is a concern of my own.” Her heels click on the floor as she walks the hall, leaving him bewildered and frustrated, his back still turned. Annie Brawley was awake. She would find him

* * *

 

It is two weeks later when they receive a tip. She’s put in countless man-hours circulating his picture and scraping up information. Annie Brawley has passed away and yet, she has nothing to offer her grieving family, _their_ grieving families, except a skeptical tip from a town nearly 3 hours away. They have skin samples from underneath the young woman’s fingernails but no matches.

 She’s avoided Burns like the plague, still feeling the long-gone bruise on her arm. He didn’t have the right to show concern _now._ He hadn’t before. Back when she just entered her 30’s, a promising career ahead and a positive pregnancy test perched between her fingers, tears spurting from her red rimmed eyes. _I would have left my wife for you,_ she can hear the words echo in her mind. How funny timelines are. He would have left his wife, but that was years later and she had coldly climbed the ranks by then, her stiletto shoes crushing the faces of those beneath her. It would have been foolish by then; years after the test had been disposed of, along with the unplanned sprout growing in her womb.

There was no room for stragglers in this world; for the weak. She had moved on ages ago. They both had. She didn’t concern herself with the feelings he wanted to express, her chest cold and barren. She would not let him weasel back into her life, to tell her he _cared._ She didn’t want his _care_.  What had care done for her, except typecast her as a typical emotional female in the boy’s game?  She wouldn’t have any of it. She didn’t _care_ that he disapproved of her trip to the town, that he worried she was putting her life in danger. She didn’t _care_ that his wife was secretly cheating on him and planning to leave. She didn’t _care_ for him at all. He was her colleague.

 _Do you have any idea of the effect you have on men?_ She hears his voice in her head. She knew quite well, as she remembers him slipping inside her, shouting _‘Stella’_ as she rode him until his voice was sore and only elicited moans that mirrored her own. She was going to catch their killer. She knew the effect she had, and that’s how she planned to catch their killer, danger be damned.  She is no sacrificial lamb, but he will come for her. Before she closes her journal, ending her writings for the night, she flips back to a photo, perched between the pages of her journal. She should throw it out, but she can’t bear to do so. It’s grainy and aged, but she runs her fingers over it, regardless. Her nails have freshly painted jezebel varnish coated atop them. She knows he can’t resist, that he’s a slave to his urges. She snaps the book closed and looks at the sketch on her bed. _‘Peter.’_ He will try to kill her, but she will catch him. Withnothing else left to do, she packs.

The entirety of her life can fit into a suitcase. She’s not sure if this should upset her.

She’s not sure if the exhilaration she feels when he calls, ‘just to check in,’ should upset her more.

She’s decided she has no room in her life for upset. She hasn’t for a long time. The road to hell is paved with good intentions and she will have none of his. There’s a killer on the loose, and she’s promised to catch him. She will catch him. She’s been a huntress her whole life and never has she missed catching her prey.

She doesn’t care to start now


End file.
